The Society
by BeneathAWesternSky
Summary: Hermione, in her grief over Ron's infidelity, is dragged to a secret society that meets for anonymous sexual encounters. The Wizarding community is prudish, but this society pushes the boundaries. It is there that Hermione finds herself the object of Lucius's obsession. She must navigate her feelings. Is it sex, or is there more? [Hermione x Lucius] possible [Hermione x Draco]
1. Chapter 1

**AN: This is just a quick drabble, to see if anyone likes where the story is going. I had this idea when I was thinking of Eyes Wide Shut, and thought this would be an interesting situation to throw Hermione and Lucius into. It may be too fast paced, too out of character, and just too easy, but I really just wanted to start off with a bang. It may or may not be a slow burn fic, but I'll leave that up to the reviews I get. Think of this as an exploratory chapter, and let me know what you think, and I'll decide if I want to run with it.**

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The black parchment clutched in her hands had been there for almost five minutes. Her slender fingers shook as she ran them over the back of the envelope, over the wax seal that stood out against the stark color of the parchment. Inlaid in gold was a naked, winged man, Greek in style, who Hermione recognized as one of the Erotes, the gods of love and sexual desire. Had she really gotten this far? Was this really happening?

She knew she should throw the envelope into the fireplace of her vast Diagon Alley flat, but something stayed her hand. After all, she'd felt the urge to get herself this far, why stop now?

Holding her breath, the cracked the seal, and opened the letter. On the black parchment, written in gold, were a very few choicely scrawled words:

9 PM

Tonight

Cameron House, Loch Lomond

Scotland

Hermione let out the breath she had been holding. She had an hour to change her mind. And maybe that was why the group sent the location out so late—so people had less time to back out. But maybe she was projecting her own fears.

And what had brought her to this point? Had life with Ron not been satisfying? She had lied to herself for years and said that yes, Ron was enough. Ron and she had been through hell together, and they were going to grow old together. But all of that had changed when he drunkenly slept with Romilda Vane. And Padme Patil. And even Pansy Parkinson.

The last one had been enough for Hermione to boot him out of her flat for good. She had been naïve enough to forgive him for Romilda and Padme. At least they weren't the fanatical Slytherin type who thought people like Hermione were filthy. ( _Moodblood_ , her mind projected, and quickly she stuffed the thought back down in her mind, chastising herself for allowing the word to surface.)

Ron begged and pleaded, but with the support of Ginny, Luna, and even Harry (though he still remained friends with Ron), Hermione bucked up the courage and set out on her own.

And there she was, at age twenty-one, most of her friends already married with children on the way, and she was on a list of people who met regularly for clandestine sexual encounters.

 _Orgies_ , if she was being brutally honest with herself. The word made her scrunch her face up in mortification. Why had she let Parvati talk her into this? Her fellow Gryffindor classmate had been on the list for six months. Parvati joyfully rejected the standard in the Wizarding community of the United Kingdom that by the time you were twenty-one, you should be at least engaged to someone. Merlin forbid you be single, and daresay open to more than one sexual partner.

So, with the stigma of monogamy, chastity and prudence permeating Wizarding society, the Erotes Society had been meeting for years. How long, Hermione had no idea. This wasn't exactly in her line of studies. She suspected there were a tome or two out there in someone's private library that gave a definitive history on the community. But as an upwardly mobile employee in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, everything in Hermione's body screamed at her. This could not be legal. Could it? She certainly had never encountered any laws saying otherwise.

But her career could be seriously jeopardized by being found out, being seen in this society. That was enough for Hermione. She shook her head, and began tearing up the letter into smaller pieces, and as she cocked her hand back to chuck them into the fire, it blazed green with Floo fire, and Hermione stepped back in shock, clutching the wand that rested in her robes.

Out of her fireplace stepped a robed, dark haired girl with a wry expression on her face. She too held an opened, black envelope. She tutted her disapproval when she saw the torn pieces of parchment in Hermione's hand.

"I knew it," Parvati said, snatching the pieces from Hermione's hand, and tossing them into the fire for her. "I told you I'm making you go," she said, holding her own, un-torn letter in the air.

"Parvati, this is stupid," Hermione said, turning away, and sitting on her plush, flax colored couch that stood out against the dark, hard wood floors. "This is desperate, it's…"

"It's not desperate," Parvati said, walking to stand in front of her friend. "It's fun. It's sex. That's it."

Hermione's face was impassive. Parvati sat next to Hermione, her black robes still drawn tightly around her. She reached out, and placed a hand on Hermione's knee, allowing Hermione a small peek below—Parvati leg was completely bare under the cloak.

"Muggles don't live like we do. They're more… free about this kind of stuff," she said, shaking her head, and took her hand back to readjust her robe. "This group, Hermione, it's been meeting for years. And if it were so bad, do you think it wouldn't have been exposed years ago? It's just… you're young, you're free of Ron—"

Hermione shot Parvati an incredulous look.

"Ok, ok," Parvati conceded. "Not free from him, but… free to explore yourself, your life. Your sexuality. Hermione, seeing you that way after Ron left, it was heartbreaking."

"I just don't think this is the answer," Hermione said, her face flushing with the thought of a stranger's hands on her, while at the same time bristling at the thought of someone else's hands on Ron.

"It may not be the answer to your problem in the long run. But I think you should try it once. _Then_ make up your mind." Parvati considered Hermione a moment. "Do you have a problem with this? I mean, from a personal standpoint? Or is it just the fear of what others expect of you?"

Hermione chewed her lip a moment, and admitted in defeat, "the latter."

Parvati's face lit up. "There! Then let's get you dressed."

"Dressed?" Hermione asked, her voice filling with concern.

"Yes, dummy, dressed." Parvati stood, and opened her robe to reveal black lingerie sumptuously wrapped around her brown skin. "You can't go there in your Muggle clothes. Or pretty much any clothes at all," she added with a wicked grin.

"Parvati, I don't…" Hermione said, her face now completely hot. "I don't have that kind of stuff."

Parvati began rifling through the interior pockets of her own black robe. "I know. That's why I got you this." Parvati pulled out a mess of straps and lace, and Hermione had no idea what it even was. Certainly not enough to cover her.

"That!?" Hermione exclaimed, looking at the dusty, almost white-pink bits of lace Parvati held.

"It will fit you, I promise. I bewitched it to," Parvati said, eyeing her handiwork. "But I think I do a fairly good job of picking out size, so it may not need it."

Without a word, Parvati shuffled Hermione off the couch, and into her bedroom, where she started to tug at the hemline of her shirt.

"I can dress myself, Parvati," Hermione said, defeatedly.

"Not in this, you can't," Parvati said, holding up the nearly nude-colored undergarments. "Hermione. I lived with you for six years in the dormitories. There's nothing of yours I haven't seen, and I know there's nothing of _mine_ you haven't seen."

With reluctance, Hermione began shucking off pieces of clothing, and rifling through the small pile of lace on her bed. Parvati handed her one piece at a time, and helped her get into the pieces. They all fit her perfectly, not a pinch or pull anywhere, and felt like silk against her skin.

When it was all said and done, and Parvati stepped back to look at her handiwork, she nodded her approval. Hermione's pale skin glowed against the blush lingerie, the bra, the garter, the panties, the nude stockings with the seam up the back.

"This is a bit much, Parvati," Hermione said. "I look ridiculous." She wrapped her arms around her midsection.

"No you don't," Parvati said dismissively, still looking Hermione over. "Now we have to do something about that hair. It's too recognizable if we don't do something about it. We only have about forty-five minutes before we have to Apparate onto the grounds."

Hermione shook her head. "No, I think I'm just going to stay."

Parvati set her mouth in a thin line, and grabbed Hermione's arms firmly. "Hermione, just try it once. I swear… this has been so liberating for me. Once a week, I do this, I get it out of my system, and I come home happy, content. My confidence at work is just through the roof. I won't say this is the only reason, but it helps."

Hermione was still quiet.

"Ok, I know you don't need anonymous sex to give you a confidence boost at work, but think of it this way. You can move on from Ron. In a safe, controlled environment. Everyone's very respectful of boundaries. The second you say no, they back off. It's really just… I don't know, Hermione, it's a very respectful, encouraging environment to be in. It's not as tawdry as I'm sure you think."

Hermione's face softened a bit. Parvati continued, and decided to divulge one secret she kenw. "Neville goes." Hermione's eyes widened. "And you've seen how he's doing in Herbology. The Ministry is about to promote him to the head of the Herbology Research Department. You've seen the change in him. Haven't you ever wondered why he's doing so well?"

Hermione blinked. "Parvati, I don't think I could ever have sex with Neville," she said flatly.

Parvati laughed. "Don't think of it as the person you're having sex with. This is all about pleasure, sex… not about feeling or emotion. I think you'd know Neville if he came up to you, but you can always say no. It's your first time, anyway, someone else is bound to… speak up."

Hermione shook her head. "Fine," she said, and Parvati jumped a little with happiness.

Within the next half hour, Parvati had smoothed Hermione's hair straight so it laid flat across her back in brown cascades, with the help of a half a tub of Sleekeazy's Hair Potion. Without letting Hermione change her mind, Parvati quickly threw Hermione's cloak on over her, helped her into a pair of nude pumps, and affixed a partial mask to her face before putting the hood over her head.

Parvati extended her hand, and Hermione took it. "Side-along Apparition. So we both show up at the same place, and same time." Parvati nodded assuringly.

With the tell-tale pressing sensation over her entire body, Hermione soon landed steadily on thick, lush grass that was bathed deep emerald in the moonlight. She was back in Scotland, overlooking a lake, and a vast estate that cast its reflection in the pitch-black water.

Other hooded figures were Apparating as well, and paid no mind to Parvati and Hermione. Nothing set them apart. Each of them were clad in dark robes, with partial masks over their eyes. Some talked casually to each other. Clearly, they weren't completely anonymous to each other. Hermione's stomach filled with ice at this thought, but knew that the cult of silence surrounding the Erotes Society was sacred to them. The reason they were able to conduct themselves clandestinely for so long was because they prided themselves on their secrecy.

As if walking in a dream, Hermione barely noticed that her feet had taken her up to the front steps of the castle, and she and Parvati fell in line with the others. They walked down corridors lit with enchanted torches and enchanted chandeliers. The paintings on the wall struck Hermione a moment—they weren't charmed to move like wizarding paintings. They were Muggle paintings.

"Whose house is this?" Hermione asked, Parvati at her side. "These are Muggle paintings."

Parvati smiled. "They choose a different location every time. Sometimes it's the home of a wizard, sometimes it's a vacant Muggle mansion, sometimes it's even a historical site for tourists." Parvati seemed to enjoy this knowledge.

"Every time is a little different. You'll see. But remember—no names tonight, ok?"

And soon she did take notice of what Parvati meant by "you'll see", Hermione's expectations did not match what she saw in the great hall. Witches and wizards, with their hoods drawn, took canapés and drinks served on platters by men in white tuxedos. They talked like they would at any gala, or party, or ball. No one was stripping down, no one was engaging in sex on a floor of wall-to-wall pillows. This wasn't a scene from Caligula's court.

Parvati promptly grabbed two glasses of champagne off a silver platter that was passing by, and handed one to Hermione.

"Drink this one fast, and the rest of them slowly. We've got to get you to a baseline of calm," she said, taking a sip of her own.

Hermione didn't need telling twice. She took two generous gulps in one go. She was about to ask about the wait staff when a man in a robe approached Parvati. His skin was even darker than Parvati's, nearly chocolate, and his pouty lips gave him away immediately.

He sauntered up to Parvati, and wrapped his hands around her robed waist, kissing her neck possessively. Parvati smiled at this gesture, and pulled back to look at who Hermione knew to be Blaise Zabini, the Slytherin classmate who had chummed up with Draco Malfoy all those years.

Hermione's stomach turned. How could Parvati allow herself to be touched by _him_?

"My nymph," he said, pulling back, and looking her over. "Might I be so lucky as to have you tonight?"

Parvati gave a smile that played only at the corners of her mouth. "Apollo, dear, you know that it's far too early for me to say yes or no." She sighed. "That would make it, what, three in a row? Where is the fairness in that?"

Blaise, or rather _Apollo_ , chuckled, and drew himself down to kiss Parvati lightly on the lips. "One way or another, little nymph." He turned his attention to Hermione. Her heart rate quickened, and she hoped she would not be immediately recognized with her sleek hair under her hood, and her partial mask covering her eyes.

"I was wondering when you'd bring someone in," he said. His eyes seemed to sparkle as he looked at what he could see of Hermione. "Does she have a name yet?"

Parvati shook her head. "She will tonight. Have you seen him?"

Hermione's mind raced. _Him_ who?

Blaise shook his head. "I'll find him and tell him we have a Naming tonight."

Parvati nodded in understanding, and Blaise left quickly, weaving through the crowd and disappearing.

"Par—What haven't you told me about this? Naming? I thought there weren't supposed to be any names." Hermione thought seriously of breaking for the door.

"Hermione, no one uses a real name, but we have pseudonyms. Blaise," she lowered her voice, so none would hear, "is Apollo. I'm Nymph. You'll get a name too, tonight, and one of the council will offer himself to you. You can decline, but they're meant to welcome the newcomers. They can guide you through the first time."

"I don't need guiding, I've _had_ a first time," Hermione hissed.

"Not like this," Parvati said seriously. "They need to teach you rules, boundaries, and they need to help you integrate into the group. But like I said—consent is huge here. Nothing happens that you don't want to."

Hermione swallowed the lump that had been growing in her throat. She'd come this far. She plotted the exits, but knew there were too many wizards and witches to make her way around without making too much of a scene.

"What's a _Naming_ … like?" Hermione asked.

Parvati sighed and smiled. "They'll ask you some questions. The leader will choose your name. And one of the council will make an offer, and you'll accept, or if you deny, then another will offer, and so on and so forth. It was amazing, _really_." Parvati's wistful look on her face reassured Hermione.

"Do you know who your… _first_ … was?"

Parvati drank the rest of her champagne, and lifted Hermione's up to her mouth so she would finish. As Hermione drank, Parvati spoke. "I'm really not supposed to say." She was silent a moment. "Lupin," she said, so low Hermione thought she'd imagined it.

"Wh—" Hermione sputtered. "Rem—He's in Erotes? But Nym…" Hermione struggled not to use their names. "He's married! How could he?"

Parvati smiled and shrugged. "His wife's in the council too," she said. "They're _that_ type of couple."

"Are there any other couples who do this?"

Parvati nodded. "Or who did. The leader's divorce caused a little… static in the group. His wife wanted to keep coming, staying on as a council member, but a unanimous vote ousted her from the upper ranks, and she's been absent ever since."

"That hardly seems fair," Hermione said, grabbing another glass of champagne as a tuxedoed waiter passed her.

Parvati grabbed her own, and looked around the crowd to see if anyone was listening in. All of them were too engrossed in their own conversations to take notice.

"It is when you compromise the secrecy of the Society, and when your extra-marital activities _go beyond Saturday nights_ ," her words hung in the air, weighted with meaning. "Lots of taboos in the Wizarding community don't exist here, but this Society isn't supposed to affect your normal life. It's not supposed to change how you interact in the Wizarding world."

Hermione mulled this over a moment. She was starting to understand that though the Society had liberal views on sexuality, they seemed to adhere to a sort of code of conduct, which Hermione could understand in a way.

"Do you know who the Leader is?" Hermione asked, and before Parvati had a chance to answer, a loud knocking noise interrupted her, causing the murmur of conversation to die down, and all grew silent. The gilded double door opposite the hall, nearly eighteen feet tall, opened, and in walked a cadre of hooded figures, their white half-masks intricately detailed, reminding Hermione of the masks of the eighteenth century French court.

Hermione's stomach hitched when she saw who she assumed was the Leader, dressed in his matching black robe, but his mask was black, in contrast to the white masks the council wore.

They came to the center of the room, where a mosaic, red and gold marble tile circle stood out against the white marble floor of the rest of the hall. The members of the society all took their cue, and backed off of the circle, giving enough room for the council to form a half-circle behind the Leader.

"There is a newcomer amongst us tonight," his voice rang out, clear and cold. That voice was like a cold hand gripping her heart. She knew that voice, but she didn't want to believe it was who she thought it was. "Come forward."

Parvati straightened up, and put her hand on Hermione's back, leading her forward. When they got to the edge of the circle, one of the society members grabbed the glasses of champagne that both the girls were holding. Parvati stopped at the border, and pushed Hermione forward. She nearly stumbled, her legs turning to jelly, and her heels hindering her walking. The leader held his and out, and beckoned her forward.

Hermione's heart pounded in her ears, and she came to stand at arm's length from the Leader. He began circling her like a predator. All were silent.

"Who speaks for you here?" he asked.

Hermione heard Parvati's voice. "I do," she said, drawing the Leader's attention a moment.

"Nymph has brought us a new member. Tell us," he stopped in front of Hermione and looked down at her, a full head shorter than he was, "Why are you here, girl?"

"I…" Hermione stammered. She had no idea. Why was she here? For a moment, Ron's infidelity fled her mind, and she thought about Disapparating right then and there, but something inside her stayed her hand. The sight of Ron between Padme's legs, the sight of Ron pressing Romilda against a wall, and the sight of Pansy kneeling before a seated Ron made her blood boil.

"I'm tired of feeling the way I do," Hermione said.

The Leader stopped his circling a moment, and paused at Hermione's back. "Go on," he purred.

"I'm tired of feeling unwanted. I'm tired of infidelity. I'm tired of feeling like I'm not enough." Hermione's composure nearly failed, but she refused to break down in front of all of these masked witches and wizards, some of whom she knew she may be sleeping with soon enough.

"You're tired of not feeling like you have any power over your own life. Your own body," the Leader stated, rounding on Hermione, stopping in front of her, barely inches from her. He said this so low that only the two of them heard it.

Hermione's heart rate picked up. She was sure now she knew who he was. Why wasn't she running? She felt so stupid—Blaise was here, of course there were other Slytherins. But she hadn't expected a former _Death Eater_. Still, her truth laid bare in front of all the others stayed her hand.

"Yes," she said. He smiled wickedly, and drew his hands up to the fasten of her cloak. Hermione flinched away from his touch. His steel blue eyes shone through his mask, challenging her.

"This is how it's done, love," he said, too familiar in Hermione's opinion. "We've all done it."

When he found no more protest, he unclasped her cloak, which fell to the floor, exposing her slender frame in her nude lace lingerie.

He backed up from Hermione, and continued his circle around her, looking at every inch of her exposed flesh. Hermione expected jeers or some kind of reaction from the crowd, but they stayed respectfully quiet.

He backed up, and addressed the crowd. "Should we accept this new pledge?"

A murmur of assent from the crowd broke the silence.

"Very well," he said, and stood behind her, his hand making contact with her waist. "I name this pledge _Persephone_."

Yet another murmur came from the crowd, and Hermione looked around her to see hooded figures talking quietly to themselves. Some of them smiled, some of them gaped. What would her name matter?

The Leader spoke over the crowd. "Persephone needs a tutor in our ways. Who will volunteer?"

Hermione listened a moment for someone to speak up. But none did. Her heart hammered—why were they silent? What would happen if no one would speak for her? Did that mean she would have to leave?

"None shall take this pledge?" His voice sounded playful, taunting almost. Hermione was missing something, she knew in her core.

"Then I shall take this pledge, unless there are any objections," he said, pausing so briefly, Hermione was sure he already knew there would be none.

With her mouth agape, the Leader took Hermione's hand, and addressed the crowd. "The night is yours," he said, and they all began to mingle, finding partners for the evening. Hermione watched as pairs of two, three, and even a few pairs of four, walked off in different directions, and began disappearing through hallways and doors to the many private quarters that peppered the great estate.

Hermione looked around for Parvati, but could not pick her out from the crowd of black robes. She felt a sense of panic as the Leader's broad hand gripped hers firmly but gently, and began to tug her back to his attention.

"Now, Persephone, let's get you to someplace more comfortable than this cold hall," he said, and without waiting for her reply, he pulled her along with him, up a winding flight of stairs and down a long corridor.

When her senses came back to her, Hermione yanked her hand from the enigmatic Leader's, and she shot him a dangerous look. "I'll go _nowhere_ with you."

"But my dear Persephone, you don't even know me, how can you object already," he said, tauntingly.

"I know who you are under that mask," she said, drawing her arms around her bare waist. "I would rather sleep with a chimera."

He closed the distance between them, his footsteps echoing on the stone floor of the hall, and placed his hands on her upper arms, and held her firmly.

"Who I am under this mask means nothing. None has spoken for you, so you are mine for the night. You've been given a name, and now you're one of us."

Hermione stayed put. She shook so much, she was sure her anger was coming off her in waves.

"I am not yours, _Malfoy_ ," she said, spitting his name at him, knowing she was breaking a rule. This seemed to enliven him, and he pulled her to him quickly, cutting her off with his lips pressed against her. With her arms crossed around her waist, Hermione had difficulty resisting him, but resist she did. But in her resistance, she still was struck by how warm, soft and exploratory his kiss was.

A spark within her enjoyed it, and it disgusted her.

"No names, dear, or I am afraid I'll have to start your education with a hard lesson."

"I thought consent was _big here_ ," Hermione spat.

Lucius Malfoy chuckled. "Oh it is, dear. This is an education you'll be begging for."

The two were at an impasse.

Malfoy leaned down and crooned into her ear. "Forget who I am under this mask. Forget the horrible things I've done—I assure you, I _know_ they are horrible—and let me show you how to appreciate your body. That's what you're here for, isn't it? No one is going to force you." Lucius backed up from Hermione, lowered his hood so his mane of white hair showed, and walked backwards towards the room at the end of the hall.

Hermione looked at the self-assured former Death Eater, and a sickness in the pit of her stomach grew. It felt almost as if she were looking in on herself from the outside and couldn't recognize who she was, standing there nearly naked in lingerie that probably cost a thousand pounds in total, if she converted galleons to Muggle money.

It was enough to snap Hermione back to her senses. She wanted freedom from her pain at losing Ron, but not like this. Not by crawling into bed with a snake.

"I want nothing to do with you people," she said, and started walking down the hallway, ready to Disapparate when she reached the grounds.

Hermione could practically see his smile in his voice as he called out to her back, "You're one of us now," he called. "It's not that easy. When you're ready, though, Persephone, I'll be waiting."

Hermione kicked off her nude pumps, and snapped them up under her arm. She ran through the great hall, and snatched her cloak as she ran, Disapparating the second her feet touched the grass. After she reached her flat, she threw her shoes and cloak to the ground and stormed off to her bedroom, where she stood shaking and clenching her fists for thirty straight minutes.

She wasn't sure what she was angry at. Lucius Malfoy, for offering to be her first within the Society, or herself, and for wanting it just a little bit.


	2. Chapter 2

Six days after Hermione had stormed out of Cameron House in Loch Lomond, she still seethed about it. At her desk in the Ministry of Magic, Hermione remained irritable and easily distracted. She had resorted to tonics from St. Mungo's for her near constant headaches. They got to be so bad that she very nearly considered going home for the day, but her sense of duty prevented her from doing so.

So, she sighed as she signed a form she had been working on, and charmed it to fold itself into a paper airplane, to be sent to Kingsley's office. She sighed, and returned to reading reports of magical law breaking, signing off on fines and correspondence between offices. Hermione usually loathed this kind of work, though it was a necessary evil in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, but today she had no energy to devote to hating the tedium of Ministry work.

She was so lost in her thoughts about Saturday night that she barely noticed her name being called to her. She rubbed at her eyes, and it wasn't until the fourth time her name had been called that she realized Kingsley Shacklebolt stood before her, a look of concern playing on his face.

"You alright, Hermione?" he asked, his dark eyes narrowing at the sight of Hermione shrunken the way she was.

"Yes, Minister," she said, and sat up straighter. "Headache's all."

"'Minister'…" Kingsley grumbled. "When am I going to get you to start calling me Kingsley?"

Hermione smiled tiredly. "It's only 'Minister' at work, sir. That's my rule."

Kingsley nodded and smirked. "We'll have to agree to disagree." His eyes sparkled a moment.

Hermione looked at her employer patiently. For Kingsley to come to Hermione's desk on a Friday morning, it meant that he needed something. The Minister of Magic did not often pay social calls to his subordinates.

Kingsley sighed. "Well, I'll get right to it then," he said, not wishing to delay the inevitable any longer. "I've got a case for you. I know your workload has been a bit dull lately, and this… promises to be anything but that."

Hermione didn't like the sound of that. "Oh?" she asked, dutifully. "What have you got for me?"

"I've offered it to others on this floor, I promise," Kingsley said, bolstering his case. "No one else would take it because of the… clientele."

Hermione's stomach flipped. "Who is it, Kingsley?"

Kingsley sighed. "The Malfoys. Or rather, their company."

"What?" Hermione shouted. Immediately she regretted her volume, but narrowed her eyes at Kingsley. "And you thought _I_ would be a suitable case worker?"

"Actually, Hermione, yes," Kingsley said, drawing himself up, ever the impressive figure in his midnight blue robes. "Malfoy Magical Technologies is looking to expand into a new Muggle technology and research, and seeing as you are my best worker here in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and you _also_ happen to be Muggle born, you would be the best person to steer this ship."

Hermione brought her fingers to the bridge of her nose and pinched. This headache was probably going to turn into a migraine very soon.

She wanted nothing more than to reject Kingsley then and there. The idea that she would have to face that snake again repulsed her. The way he'd prowled around her almost a week ago made her skin crawl. Why in Merlin's name had she even agreed to go? She would be mortified if she ever had to see him in person.

Still. Hermione was a model employee, and wanted to rise in the ranks of the Ministry. She had hopes that one day she might be the Minister, but that was a long way away. But she wouldn't get there if she weren't a team player. Normally she was, but now? This was a trial like she hadn't faced since she was eighteen, and she was chasing Horcruxes across England.

"What's the technology?" Hermione asked, removing her hand from her face, and looking at Kingsley through bleary eyes.

"Mobile Telephones," Kingsley said, stilted.

Hermione laughed weakly. "Kingsley, the Wizarding world hasn't even brought in corded Muggle telephones. Going straight to cellular telephones?" She shook her head.

Kingsley was silent a moment, and Hermione realized he probably didn't know the difference between corded and cellular phones. "Well, the Malfoys have reasoning there. They're better able to explain. Which they actually will be doing today, so you need to look sharp."

"T-today?" Hermione said, scooting her chair back abruptly.

"Yes, I'm sorry I couldn't delay them any further. It took me the week to get around to asking everyone else, that they won't be put off any longer."

Hermione might not have had the same reaction last week, before she knew that Lucius Malfoy headed the clandestine Erotes Society. The Malfoys had been reintegrated back into the Wizarding community through great pains. The Malfoys had made reparations to Hogwarts, and had spearheaded many philanthropic efforts. Hermione knew it was all hot air, but still, they were still fixtures of Wizarding society. She had encountered Draco a handful of times since Voldemort's defeat, and though he hadn't been downright rude, he had been standoffish and cold. Considering his past, this was a considerable improvement.

And the Malfoys had certainly stopped groaning on about "purity" and that nonsense, at least in public. Hermione suspected they probably still held their prejudices, but kept them to themselves.

But that was just the Malfoys in society in general. Now it was different. Now she was involved.

"Kingsley," Hermione said, standing, "I haven't been able to even read the case." She smoothed the skirt of her dress down, suddenly worried that her cream, silk brocade dress wasn't suitable work attire.

Kingsley raised his hands reassuringly. "That's fine, Hermione, they just wanted to meet with their case worker so they could explain their ideas. This is routine. You've done this dozens of times before."

Hermione ran her hand over her plaited hair in defeat.

"How long do I have until they're here?" Hermione asked, trying to remain calm.

"Within the hour I'd say," Kingsley said, his eyes full with his apology.

Hermione didn't know what to do with herself, so she rested her fingertips on her forehead. They shook only slightly. "Uh," she started. "Ok, I need some time to get ready then. I'll be in the conference room in an hour." She started to walk away, not bothering to be dismissed by Kingsley. She was so caught up in herself that Kingsley had to stop her.

"Hermione," Kingsley called to the dazed girl walking towards the break room.

Hermione turned, the color of her face pale. "Yes?"

"I won't forget that you're doing this," he said. "I know you're an ambitious girl."

This gave Hermione some small comfort, and she upturned the corners of her mouth in what she assumed might pass for a smile. She had other things to be thinking about now, rather than her own upward mobility within the Ministry.

* * *

Hermione paced up and down the hallways surrounding the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. After several minutes of this, to steady her hands, Hermione entered the staff workroom, where she made tea with a manic fury that she had no idea she possessed. Hermione made quick, but sloppy-for-her work of setting her kettle boiling with her wand. Satisfied that the water was hot enough, she poured it over the bags they had in a communal box. It wasn't loose leaf, but it was enough for one person, and she would have drunk pond water at this point, she was so consumed with her thoughts.

The Malfoys. Here, at the Ministry. And Hermione was sure that Lucius knew it was her that night at Erotes. At first, she wasn't sure if he knew, the way he prowled around her, but when they were in that hallway, when he had confessed he knew he'd done terrible things to 'her and her friends'… There was no doubt that Lucius knew it was Hermione. And that made facing him even more stomach churning.

What had he said? 'I'll be waiting'? The thought made her shudder.

Still, this was her job, and she couldn't refuse. The Erotes Society, after all, maintained complete anonymity outside of their meetings. Why should the Leader of the Society be an exception?

No, Hermione would not give him the satisfaction of being flustered, or shirking her duties. So, with what little courage she could muster, Hermione cleared her throat, grabbed her mug of tea, and marched off towards the conference room. Through the glass walls of the conference room, Hermione made out two silver-headed figures in black tailored suits, Draco with a purple ascot, and Lucius with a silver one. The elder Malfoy stood a few inches over the younger, his figure impressive.

Hermione swallowed, set her jaw, and walked into the conference room, where the two men turned. Draco's face was impassive, but Hermione noticed a look on Lucius's face that displayed there for a millisecond. She couldn't quite place it, but with his eyes darting down to Hermione's body, then back up at her face, she could only guess.

" _You_ ," Draco said, his voice full of shock.

It wasn't the acidic tone she had expected. Still, their presence offended, so she sighed.

"Indeed, _me_ ," Hermione said, setting her mug down on the wooden table, which looked as if it belonged in a banquet hall rather than a conference room. "I'm afraid I'm the only case worker who would take on a case of such… complexity."

"Draco, we must take what we are given," Lucius said, holding his hand out to be shaken by Hermione. Hermione's eyebrows threatened to knit together, but Hermione held it together and extended her own hand for a terse handshake. Draco sighed, and did the same.

"Sit down, please," Hermione said, choosing the head of the table, leaving Draco and Lucius to take the seats down the length of the table. Draco placed a well-made, black, soft sided leather briefcase on the table, which he then proceeded to open, and pull out papers for Hermione.

"Miss Granger, are you alright?" Lucius asked, his voice bordering on taunting. "You look a little pale."

Hermione forced a smile, and smoothed a few baby hairs off her forehead. "I am alright, Mister Malfoy, just a headache."

"We could always come back, when you are… ready," his tone was flat.

Hermione took the papers that had been put in front of her. "No, Mister Malfoy, you have already waited a week to be seen by someone at the Ministry." She looked at the papers. "So, Messer's Malfoy, please tell me why you're here today."

Lucius looked down on Hermione with a cold condescension that shocked Hermione. Was this the same man who had not a week before offered to take her to bed? If he indeed could separate his extra curricular activities and his work life, Hermione was impressed, if not a little frightened by what this meant about him as a person.

"Our company, though we have taken great pains to hide this fact over the years, utilizes and invests in Muggle technology. Purely a financial decision, I assure you."

Hermione's eyes opened wide. This was a surprise. The Malfoys, the most notorious of the prejudiced, pure blood wizarding families, was profiting from Muggle technology.

"Well, Mister Malfoy, this _is_ a surprise," Hermione started, and began to look through the papers in front of her. "I hear that you wish to utilize mobiles. Please, tell me more about that."

"Draco will be the one to explain _that_ to you," Lucius said, arrogantly placing his arm on the back of his chair. "You see, Miss Granger, this is Draco's endeavor, one that I will have no part in after today. Let us hope this gamble pays off."

Hermione felt a pang of sympathy for Draco. She had seen the way his father badgered him in the past, and once or twice in their school days, it had occurred to Hermione that Draco might have been a foul git only because his father had indoctrinated him as such. Still, knowing that people like Sirius could reject their familial prejudices, Hermione's sympathy only extended so far.

So, Draco drew himself up impressively, and cleared his throat. "Mobiles are a growing technology in the Muggle world," he said, with less of the arrogant tone his father commanded. "It's the twenty-first century now, and it looks as if they aren't going away. I've long thought telephones could be adapted to fit the wizarding community, but wasn't sure how until mobiles became more commonplace."

Hermione smiled and hid a snigger. Draco had actually thought of such things? How very un-Malfoy of him. She quickly stifled her reaction as not to incense the elder Malfoy, whose eyes blazed a fierce blue at her reaction.

"Very well, _Mister Malfoy_ ," Hermione said, addressing Draco. "But do you mean to completely replace the owl system? I think the Wizarding community would be hard pressed to do away with such an honored tradition."

Lucius scoffed. "My thoughts exactly."

Hermione's eyes narrowed. Hermione, in her heart, welcomed the idea that the Wizarding community would start to advance technologically. She hated skirting both the Muggle community and the Wizarding community, and not being able to bridge the gap. Lucius's attitude, though not surprising, only added insult to the fact that he was here, seeking her help.

"I want you both to know that I will be taking this case very seriously, and we will find a solution that not only honors the Wizarding community, but brings it into the twenty-first century," Hermione hoped this diplomacy would set the senior Malfoy at ease at this new venture.

Draco nodded. His eyes shifted sideways towards his father. He adopted a stern expression. "When can we begin this process, then, _Granger_?"

Hermione paused a moment, and read his tone. She new when Draco's insults were genuine. This felt very much like showboating. She raised her eyebrows in amusement.

"Monday," she said flatly. "This is my only case, so we will start at nine in the morning. I'll take the weekend to look all this over," she glanced down at the stack of papers, "and hopefully we can start sketching out a plan."

"Very well," Lucius said, standing abruptly, buttoning his tailored coat. Hermione, shocked that the meeting went so quickly, stood to match Lucius's movements. Draco languidly followed. "I'll return when the plan is laid out. I don't want to be bothered with this until it's done." He left so quickly, Hermione's mouth hung open. She hadn't known what to expect from his visit.

Only, Draco stayed behind. They both watched Lucius walk away, office workers scattering as they saw him approaching. As they watched, Draco addressed Hermione in a way that utterly shocked her.

"Sorry," he said, awkwardly. "He's… never really liked to admit to anyone that we utilize Muggle technologies sometimes. I had to fight to get him to agree to let the company take on telephones."

"Er…" Hermione stood gaping still. " _You're sorry_?"

This woke something in Draco, and he huffed. "See you on Monday, Granger," he said, and skulked off in the same direction as his father, causing the same reaction among the Ministry workers.

Utterly bewildered at what she'd just gone through, Hermione scooped up the Malfoy Magical Technologies papers and her untouched tea, and walked to her desk, where she plopped down. Her vision started to blur a bit, and the light in the office seemed a bit too bright. Nausea finally gripped her, and she realized as it hit her like a ton of bricks—her tension headache was now a raging migraine.

Unable to cope any further with work, Hermione grabbed her things, and headed for the Floo network downstairs. She was sure if she stayed at work a minute longer, she would be sick. They could fire her for leaving early, but she knew they wouldn't. In her haste to leave the Ministry, Hermione forgot to grab the case file.

* * *

Parvati and Hermione sat in a terse silence across from each other. It was a warm spring morning, and it seemed the perfect weather for brunch in Diagon Alley. The patio table held two mimosas.

"Am I going to have to beat it out of you?" Parvati asked finally, taking her drink in her hand.

"What exactly do you mean?" Hermione asked sarcastically.

"Merlin's beard, Hermione, _how was it_? You haven't responded to my owls all week, I have to know."

"It wasn't," Hermione said, busying herself by drinking half her mimosa.

"Wasn't what?" Parvati asked after a pause.

"It just _wasn't_ , it didn't happen," Hermione said, not wishing to beleaguer the point any further.

"You didn't go through with it?" Parvati shouted, drawing looks from other restaurant patrons. She lowered her voice. "Hermione, the Leader himself spoke up for you. And you rejected him?" Her eyes filled with dread.

"Well it doesn't matter, because I'm not going again," Hermione said. "I'm not getting into bed with that _snake_."

Parvati grumbled, and adjusted her sunglasses. "You told me you would try it once. You didn't even give it a chance."

"Parvati, in case you have forgotten—I know you weren't there for it, but you know— _that man sat by while I was tortured by Bellatrix Lestrange_. The things he did… Even _he_ says he knows they're horrible, but that's not exactly an apology."

Parvati sighed. "Hermione… I don't mean to be a bitch but…"

"Get over it?" Hermione asked, her eyes wild.

"No, but… Remember what the Society is? It's anonymous. It doesn't matter who you are. Your real identity doesn't matter when you show up. I'm not saying he isn't a horrible man, but look at what he's done these past few years."

"Smoke and mirrors, Parvati," Hermione said, pouring more mimosa from the carafe on their table. "And no one else spoke up for me, so am I supposed to just take what I can get? That doesn't seem very liberating."

"Well," Parvati said, chewing her lip. "Not that it matters now, but… I didn't exactly get a chance to talk to you after your Naming."

Hermione's eyes lit up. She'd completely forgotten that part. "Yeah, what exactly was that? Why was my name such a big deal?"

"Well," Parvati said, looking around at the other patio tables, trying to figure out if they were being eavesdropped on.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Hermione said, grabbing her wand. " _Muffliato_. There, now no one can hear us. _Out with it_."

"Persephone," Parvati said, steeling herself with another sip of her mimosa. "There was another Persephone in the group before."

"Yeah, and?"

"It was Narcissa," Parvati blanched.

Hermione felt a pit form in her stomach. She didn't want what she was thinking to be true, but she had to ask.

"Parvati, what is Lucius's alias?"

Parvati was quiet a moment. "Hades."

Hermione laughed breathily, and felt momentarily like crying. Hades, in Greek mythology, was the god of the underworld, and Persephone was his captive consort. "Oh, how fitting… What the fuck, Parvati? What does that mean?"

Parvati looked perplexed. "I don't know, I mean… Narcissa and Lucius alike were free to choose partners within the Society, but him choosing to give you that name was not lost on _anyone_."

"But what does it _mean_?" Hermione pressed the point.

"I don't know, 'Mione! But it would certainly explain why none of the other council members spoke up for you. Maybe they didn't want to… I don't know, take that privilege away from him? Being your tutor."

"You say it like I'm a piece of property, Parvati. That's sick!"

"Well," Parvati said, shrugging. "People can get possessive with partners, it's true. People have favorites. Blaise comes to me almost every time, but I'm always able to pick someone else. No one is going to prevent you from being with anyone else, Hermione. It's just that for what ever reason, he wanted to be your tutor. It is a huge honor," she added smally.

Hermione bristled a moment, but her curiosity got the better of her. "Have… _you_ ever? With him?"

Parvati sighed like she was a fifth year Hogwarts student again. "No, but I would. There's kind of a hierarchy, and you normally let the council approach you."

"Who does he usually, you know… ask?"

"Hermione, if you're so curious about him, _just go_."

Hermione reversed the _muffliato_ charm just as their brunch was being served to them. "If I even get another invitation. He was rather terse when he came into the Ministry yesterday."

Both Parvati and Hermione began picking away at their eggs benedict. "He's not supposed to act any differently outside of the Society. Don't take offense to that."

"Well, he's a ponce in real life, so _that_ I can take offense to on its own merit," Hermione said, and the two girls laughed lightly.

Parvati opened her mouth to speak, but couldn't get a word out for being interrupted.

"Hermione?" a familiar voice came from behind her on the sidewalk. Hermione turned, and saw Harry, hand-in-hand with Ginny. Hermione smiled and stood to greet the two.

"Harry! Ginny!" she hugged them both over the small railing that separated the patio seating of the restaurant and the greater part of the sidewalk. "What are you all doing here?"

"Just went for a film," Harry said, his smile oddly staged. "That new business that just started showing Muggle films? It's actually getting a bit popular. Hi Parvati!"

Parvati inclined her head in greeting.

"Oh yeah, what did you see?" Hermione asked, looking from one friend to the other.

"Er," Ginny said, grabbing onto Harry's arm with her free hand. "What was it? The Godfather?"

Hermione smiled and laughed. "Bit of a classic, I'd say."

Harry and Ginny nodded, and the three of them stood there. Hermione had been growing apart from Harry and Ginny after her breakup with Ron, but it was still a fresh wound. She knew she would always find her way back to Harry and Ginny, but something about this meeting felt off to her.

"Everything alright, guys?" she asked, hopeful.

"Yeah—Hermione," Harry started, in a way Hermione knew was about to be a bit of a blow, "please don't be upset but we've just been to the theatre with… Ron."

"Oh," Hermione said, her smile now growing painful. "Yes, of course, I mean… You can't stop being friends with him just because of, you know…"

"Right," Ginny said, speaking up. "But there's the thing, Hermione—"

"Alright then, I'm starving, where's lunch?" Ron's familiar drawl came up from around the corner, but what Hermione saw shocked her to her core.

Ron's arm was draped casually over Romilda Vane's shoulders, and the two of them appeared to be all over each other. Hermione felt as if she had been punched in the gut.

"Hermione, I'm so, so sorry," Harry said, not knowing how to explain himself.

"I cannot _fucking_ believe this," Hermione said, her eyes filling with tears. She refused to blink, lest they fall.

Ron's face fell, and he promptly removed his arm from around Romilda. Romilda, on the other hand, looked at Hermione like her face had just sprouted hundreds of pustules.

Hermione scraped her chair back over the cobblestones, grabbing her purse as she made to leave. Parvati snapped to attention, and dug in her pocket for a handful of galleons, which she promptly dropped on the table.

"Hermione, please, we don't want there to be any bad blood between any of us," Ginny pleaded as Hermione made her way around the tables so she could walk out onto the sidewalk and away from her friends who had dealt her such an insulting blow.

"Hermione, we just want to get along with everyone," Harry said, his face fallen and full of sadness.

Hermione reached them in the sidewalk and paused a moment. "I can understand staying friends with him, Harry, I really can," Hermione said. "I did after all think I was going to spend the rest of my life with him. I did love him. But what I can't forgive, Harry, is cavorting with that…" Hermione clenched her jaw, and it was Parvati's presence at her side that steeled her.

"What I can't forgive is cavorting with that _whore_." She laughed to herself pitifully, and finally tears fell. Parvati followed in Hermione's wake as she made her way down Diagon Alley, leaving her best friends behind her.

Once the two of them had rounded the corner, Hermione chanced a glance back, and Parvati looked at Hermione to allow her to decide what to do next (sometimes the best way to support a friend is to say nothing, Parvati reasoned).

Hermione reached into her purse, of course bewitched with the same spells as her old beaded bag from the Horcrux hunt, and grabbed a vial. Without a word, she put her wand to her temple, and pulled out a silvery web of a memory, and placed it into the vial. As she did so, she realized her hands were shaking.

"Right," Hermione said, nodding, and thinking a moment as she put a stopper on the vial before putting it back in her purse. She never wanted to forget this feeling. If she needed to, she would place the memory in her Pensieve. "You say the letters come at eight in the evening every Saturday, right?"

Parvati's face lit up, and she squealed in delight, throwing her arms around Hermione.

* * *

 **AN: Thank you so much for the reviews and** **thoughts. They mean a lot. They help me stay inspired to keep going. I definitely feel inspired by you guys to keep going, and have a third chapter halfway written. I don't want to rush anything, so this chapter will be up in a few days' time. I have a few Grown Up Responsibilities to tend to, but once I can, I will update for you.**

 **As always, please share thoughts. I like your input as I steer this story around.**


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